People Watching

People fascinate me. They do funny things. I needed to get out of the house, so I packed up my computer and drove downtown for a cup of coffee and a little visit to the outside world. The vehicle behind me for most of the ride was a large utility truck who's driver was a dead ringer for the Red Sox right fielder J.D. Drew. Every time I glanced in my rear view mirror, I could see him, with his sunglasses and red stubbly goatee bobbing up and down and singing enthusiastically. It made me laugh out loud. I also enjoy catching people picking their noses in the car. Hey Buddy - your car has windows on all four sides. I don't know why you think I can't see you. But actually, I wouldn't say anything even if I could. Why stop free entertainment? 

A few weeks ago, I hit the people-watching JACKPOT. I was walking my dog with a friend of mine down town, and we packed a picnic lunch. We stopped to eat at a beautiful fountain in the center of town. The fall weather was comfortable, and a gentle breeze swayed the yellowing leaves in the trees overhead. As we relaxed, we watched a young couple; the woman in a pretty, simple baby-yellow dress, the man in a full-on sailor uniform, complete with jaunty navy cap. They were quietly canoodling a few benches over from us, but stood up when a clean but sloppy looking man with a worn-out briefcase arrived on the scene. The three shook hands and exchanged a few pleasantries. 

Then Briefcase-guy arranged the couple in front of the fountain so that they were standing face-to-face, holding hands. He took out a small book, and ceremonially began reciting from it. Whooooaaa.... hold up! Is this what I think it is? Next thing I know, Briefcase-guy is asking the few of us around the fountain if we have any objections. For some reason he looked kindly, yet pointedly at me. Perhaps I was gawking a little too obviously? Then there were rings exchanged, a kiss, and photos taken with a bright yellow disposable camera. That's right - I was witness to an impromptu wedding. 

The couple left, the bride clumsily traipsing through the grass in stilettos, while the groom, 5 inches shorter, did his best to steady her. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. My friend and I looked at each other to verify that we hadn't imagined it. Nope, the wedding was real. Surreal, but real. I guess I'm going to have to wait a while before I have the pleasure of casually observing something as wonderful, and odd, as that again. But I'll savor all the little entertaining moments I spot in the mean time. 

P.S. I know people-watching goes both ways, and I wouldn't hold it against you if you catch me dancing in the car. 

The procrastination instinct

I wake up every morning with the best of intentions. I will accomplish things. I will get the ball rolling. I will cross things off my to-do list. But my actual resolve to follow through on these things varies from day to day. I always intend to, I always want to, but my firm commitment to achieving these simple tasks isn't always what I wish it to be. And today, as I came to realize it wasn't one of my better "getting-stuff-done" days, I started to ponder the notion of procrastination.

This human inclination makes no sense to me. What evolutionary purpose could the need to procrastinate possibly fill? I don't get it. And I think that it's an instinct specific to humans. You don't see geese hanging around New England till mid-December thinking to themselves, "Well, I guess I could fly south today, but I'm just gonna wait till tomorrow." If you suggest going for a walk to my dog, he doesn't roll his eyes and sigh, "Maybe later..." He gets up! He's ready. Now. Why don't I enjoy this same get-up-and-go attitude? Hmm? What advantage am I reaping by putting stuff off? I know I feel better after a day of being productive than a day of doing nothing, and yet I'm still so inclined to sit around stagnant. 

I've just finished a book, The Last American Man, by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's a nonfictional account of a man who leaves his home at the age of 17 to live off the land in modern day America. Not my usual fare, but interesting nonetheless. And I can't help but grin sheepishly at the irony: me, sitting around for 3 hours today reading about a guy who is entirely self-motivated, who fills every minute of his 20 hour days working, planning, learning and teaching. Tirelessly. I don't have a lot of desire to go find my own road-kill dinner, but I do wish I could have a little more purpose in my life. That I could go to bed at night proud of what I'd accomplished during the day, and itching to start again tomorrow. 

But today, my list of accomplishments basically stops after: finish book. Check. Maybe I'll stop considering the logic of procrastination, and actually make a little more progress tomorrow...

Getting over Italy

My romance with Italy was love at first sight. Fresh, exotic, decadent views of the Mediterranean acted as my introduction to this new world. Deep blue water with sun sparkling on every cresting wave, yachts reflecting bright-white in contrast with the color of the ocean. I watched from the train as the coast rolled up from the shore in lazy hills, and I knew that I had fallen hard. How could I resist the innumerable charms of this country? The stunning landscape, food and wine worth dreaming about, and not to mention the generous and kind-spirited people who would look out for me during my stay.

But I knew it would be a short-lived affair; a romance with a built in expiration date. I did my best to prepare myself for my transition back to life in Connecticut, and at least initially I did fairly well readjusting. But now the reality of all I witnessed and experienced in Italy is settling in on me and I can't help but make comparisons to my life now. Like with any human relationship, after it's over, we all tend to idealize what it was. I find myself at the grocery store, stopping at the magazine rack and flipping longingly through Italian cooking magazines hoping to find a photo of somewhere I've been. And I reminisce. A lot. But Italy and I shared something that people here can't always relate to, that or they just get sick of hearing about. They sigh, and roll their eyes when I launch into another story that starts, "When I was in Rome..." I can tell that they're all thinking, "Why doesn't she just get over it already?"

But maybe I'm not ready to move on! Maybe Italy and I shared something real. I find myself wondering if we could make it work. The sound of church bells floating through the air, evening strolls through the side streets of Rome, sharing a smile over an espresso...

On the other hand, perhaps what I need is a rebound adventure to take my mind off Italy. I can hear France calling my name... or is it Belgium? Germany, Switzerland, the UK... I've realized that, really, I could be happy anywhere. It's simply a matter of choosing to be so. But for the moments when that decision is difficult to commit to, I'll always have Italy. 

Take the money and RUN

I have never been a fan of taking the cans to be recycled. Though the extra $9.50 is nice - yeah, I put it off as long as possible - you get all sticky, the awkward room off the grocery store always smells funny, and frequently, you encounter a few sketchy characters. When I went this morning, I breathed a sigh of relief when I found the place recently cleaned and empty of people. 

At about can number 600, my luck was about to change. I was joined by a tall, husky, unshaven man in his mid-forties, a bit like a chinless version of Robert from Everybody Loves Raymond. I got a dad-vibe from him, and didn't pay him much mind. On can number 620, he says to me, "You're almost as tall as I am." Ok, so he was being friendly, that doesn't bother me.

"Haha, I'm getting there," I responded with a smile.

"How old are you?"

"Hmm?" The question took me off guard - this was not headed where I thought it was...

"How old are you?" he asked again, awkwardly.

"Um, 22, so I guess I'm probably done growing anyway."

"Oh, I thought you were younger. Single?"Oh man, he did not just ask that! A recent SNL line floated through my mind: Really?! Are you serious?

"Yes, for the moment," I said.

"Yeah, you look it." Seriously? Seriously? Is that a pick-up line? "You look single." Am I supposed to be flattered? "Well, let me give you my number. 498-"

I cut him off, "Actually, I'm looking to get out of the area."

"Oh, relocating?"

"Mmhm, sorry." He turned and left quietly. 

I hate when that happens. It wasn't really as creepy as it sounds in the relaying, but it was horrendously awkward. I never like turning people down, but what's a girl supposed to do? Everybody needs a little reality check sometimes, and just a hint, you should probably not be asking out people who are half your age, despite what's portrayed in the daily media. I mean, if I tried that, I'd be dating 11 year old boys. Not cool.  Just not cool. 

And when did I start needing to be on guard against father figures?! That through me off. I'm not in Kansas any more, ladies and gentlemen. I'm in the land of the divorcé looking to get back into the dating market, with delusional ideas about twenty-something women. I gotta get out of here. 

I cashed out and took my $9.30. I'll go buy my own drink thank you very much.

Coffee Buzz

I recently returned from the summer of my life traveling and working in Italy. While this experience was life changing in countless ways, one of the most obvious impacts it had on me was to convert me into an espresso lover. As a present, one of the host families I was living with gave me a Bialetti stove-top espresso maker, and I now put it to good use every morning.

I enjoy the little buzz running through my veins that allows me to type this so speedily - if not entirely accurately. But what is the point really? As a recent grad, I have yet to find full-time employment. I don't actually NEED to be awake and alert in the morning. In theory I can lounge around all day in my jammies watching movies and hiding from the light of day. But this is not what I choose to do with my time, even though its a perfectly valid option at the moment. 

My espresso buzz gets me dressed, presentable, and ready to face the world, even if I don't make it past the end of my driveway. It's a reason to keep a good head on my shoulders and reminds me that some day soon, I'm going to need it for more than just a reason to get out of bed. 

Blogging for beginners

So I'm jumping on the bandwagon and starting my own blog. But what does that really mean? I dunno yet. Let's see...

Display name: check

blog web address: check

blog entries: erm, under construction?

So far so good. Stay tuned for the misgivings, mishaps, mysteries and miscellaneous adventures that are bound to accompany my first forays into the real world.